In the Springtime of the Year
by Wildhorses1492
Summary: There were whispers… that the Just King and the Valiant Queen had betrayed the High King... that Edmund sought the throne and Lucy aided him in becoming sole ruler of Narnia. Western spies were said to flourish in Cair, and that the reason King Edmund and Queen Lucy had stayed away was that they plotted Peter's downfall in Edmund's residence of the Western Wood…


Peter stared out the window at the roaring ocean as it crashed against the foundations of Cair, midst the wild fury of the storm that turn the waves into angry mobs and the skies grey with widow's tears. He tracked a single drop of rain as it slid across the pane, studying it, staring sightlessly as he went over in his mind what he had just been told.

"My brother means to make himself High King and remove me from the throne. It cannot be… He is my _brother_." Peter whirled to look at the Centaur and dryad that stood in his study, looking equally uncomfortable to be bearers of such forlorn news.

"Even those closest to our hearts and minds take up the bitter goblet of betrayal and drink the full cup, my lord King," Thaddeus murmured, his dark hair falling over his shoulders as he bowed his head sadly.

"He is away in the Woods, you say; Lucy also?" Peter looked up from studying the carpeted stone floor.

"Yes, together they have been seen, talking among the Woods while a-riding through the glades of Edmund's realm," Undamin answered, raising her leafy head and nodding quickly in affirmation.

"They spend great parts of the morning talking in Edmund's study, we know not what of," Thaddeus admitted, shrugging his great shoulder slightly, his hooves stamping against the ground, the iron shoes ringing against the stone as he showed his discomfort in a horse-like manner.

"Leave me, but as you go, send for my sister and the General Oreius; we must confer." Peter collapsed into his study chair as he waved them off. The dryad and Centaur glanced at their king and at one another as they moved away, feeling uncomfortable. Peter stayed in the position he had fallen, and was in it still when his sister and the General arrived a half an hour later.

"My dearest brother, what grave news is this?" Susan cried, rushing to kneel beside her eldest brother's chair and place her hands over his. "I have heard whispers for some time of this month about unrest, but suddenly cometh to my ears the words of revolt led by our own siblings! Deny it; should thee pass the words from thy lips I shall know all things as falsehood; tell me 'tis not so!" Susan begged, her blue eyes pleading with him.

"I… would I could deny it, beloved sister, but I cannot… It appears our little sister has fled to Edmund, for she thinks him better high king than I!" Peter bowed his head, covering his face with his hands and his bright hair falling over his forehead. Susan stared aghast, her fair complexion paling still more until it was nearly that of Edmund's.

"It cannot be… You have been the sun, Edmund the moon, and Lucy and I the stars! We cannot be without the other lest we send the heavens into unbalance and chaos!" Susan cried with anguish, lamenting the downfall of their kingdom with the loss of their siblings.

Long ago it had been a poet of Calormen to liken them to the heavens, and they found it true. Peter was the sun, for without him, the kingdom would fall. But Edmund was the moon, tempering the ferocity of their sun and evening its fires. And the night would not be complete without its stars, and so Susan and Lucy had been called; for they gave off their own light, yet would go unnoticed without the other heavenly bodies.

"Tis true, apparently, though I wish to deny it with vehemence, but it _is_!" Peter declared fiercely, rising and moving away from her with a jerk. Tears fell from Susan's eyes as she watched her brother pace.

"So there shall be war, then?" she whispered after a time, lifting her face to stare from the floor to meet her brother's gaze.

"Yes, and we will be defeated without some plans. General Oreius, my friend, which is why I have called you to me." Peter turned to look at the Centaur that he had long ignored while grieving for what he and his sister had lost.

"Yes, we must prepare for what is coming. Though, my lord, I wish you do one thing before we declare them enemies of Narnia." Oreius looked at Peter hesitantly.

"Tell me," Peter demanded, straightening and staring at the Centaur.

"If Your Majesties would do this one thing…" And the Centaur outlined his plan.

 **~|:O:|~**

A month passed, then another. Throughout the land Peter and Susan sent forth their notices as Oreius had suggested. They announced the Springtime Festival was to be held at Cair Paravel before the Four Thrones, instead of on Dancing Lawn as it usually was. Everyone was invited and asked to bring all they usually did to the festival. But word of the unrest had spread; it was heard and even seen by some that King Edmund amassed an army to rival the Narnian military in the Western Wood.

Many whispered of civil war breaking out soon between the four rulers of Narnia. Everyone was worried. Though some, like Telmar, clasped their hands and smiled cattishly, waiting for the great sovereigns of Narnia to devour one another. Lords, ladies, knights, earls, barons, dukes and others murmured in the courts of Cair about how so much horror would surely follow this. For Peter was a warrior, but he was not a man of strategy as Edmund was; and Edmund had Lucy on his side; the Valiant Queen was a fierce fighter.

No word came from Edmund in his forest or Lucy with him, that they would attend the festival. Not a single letter, note or message, was delivered. Peter and Susan began to fear that all they had heard was truth, and Edmund had turned his back on them in favor of ruling himself. Aslan only knew what he was capable of if given the chance. And so came forth the day of the Festival. Still no word had come from those in the West.

Peter and Susan instructed Oreius to begin organizing the troops after the feasting and dancing had abated.

 **~|:O:|~**

"I have heard such new of gravest intent!" Sir Gillith lamented, a look of woe upon his regal face as he approached two lords talking over drink and food. They turned mournful eyes upon him. "How could the King do such to his noble brother and gentle sister? I met King Edmund, and liked him greatly; he was a fine man I thought!" the knight declared sadly.

"We, too, met the King once, and thought such things also; for shame he and Queen Lucy do this dreadful thing…" Lord Glistenwing, a talking Falcon moaned. The Leopard knight stalked away, head bowed pitifully.

"It has been rumored it shall break out into civil war if no word comes from them in due time!" Lady Mered whispered to Lady Fointlon of Ettinsmoor.

"I know, I know! How terrible that such a handsome man as the Just King thinks to go against his brother! He is no man of war, he shall surely be beaten! I had thought he'd learnt his lesson when he was captured by the Witch; apparently he learns nothing…" Lady Fointlon tittered.

 **~|:O:|~**

Peter surveyed the gathering with Susan by his side. He had tried to lift his spirits, to hide the anguish, but when the entire kingdom whispered of the betrayal, he did not really bother, and neither did Susan. They silently consoled one another as they took a turn, arm in arm, about the massive ballroom. They talked to few guests; only those who truly understood the problem.

As the day wore on, Susan and Peter parted, standing alone talking to someone about the likely possibility of civil war, and the cost it would have upon the kingdom. Suddenly, the ballroom doors were thrown wide. A guard burst in, searching the room with wild eyes until he found King Peter midst the throngs.

"My lord King! The –" Whatever he meant to say was forgotten when fiddles and pipes were heard from the hall. Soon Narnians entered the room. Dryads of Beech, Ash, Oak, Birch, Yew and others; gaily they were raising their hands high as they danced laughingly into the room. Ribbons bedecked them, and their dresses and robes were bright and joyful for such dark times. Peter and Susan stared at them in bewilderment, wondering what this was. For all the trees were of the Western Wood.

Suddenly, two figures could be seen entering the room behind the dancers, the fiddlers, the harpists, and the flute-players.

King Edmund and Queen Lucy.

They were bareheaded except for their circlets of silver; Lucy wore a lacy spring-green and white gown which swished gaily about her ankles as she walked, her hair seemed to glint as gold in sunlight washed under a shining brook; at her waist was belted her dagger and cordial. Edmund wore a simple white shirt, loosely laced at the throat, and fawn-colored riding breeches with knee-high black boots. His twin swords were at his sides, as always, and a graceful smile was upon his face; his long dark hair falling in waves and curls about his shoulders. Like the dryads, the two monarchs held garlands of flowers and green leaves.

They paused, looking about the room, before spotting their older siblings. They seemed to trip lightly across the ballroom floor, which had suddenly emptied as they entered to allow the dancing dryads more space, and approached the High King and Gentle Queen with arms outstretched, the garlands perfuming the air.

They came in such a way because they had heard the dire reports from Edmund's informants spread across the kingdom. They had been planning to subdue the lands to the West, which was what had kept them occupied all these long months. When they talked of "overthrowing," they meant the ruthless warlords in their mountain castles that dealt harshly with their subjects. The "armies" they had gathered had been refugees of the West, from the Twilight Mountains. But once news reached them of the internal turmoil of Narnia, they then turned from battling the warlords to battling something much more deadly: the lies spread about them to their siblings.

Edmund and Lucy bowed to their siblings, laughingly kneeling before them and presenting the garlands with these words:

" _A garland gay we bring you here,  
And at your door we stand.  
It is a sprout well budded out;  
The work of our Lord's hand_

 _We've been rambling all the night  
And sometime of this day;  
Now returning back again  
We bring a garland gay." _

At once the dryads took up a song and sung the words whilst fiddlers fiddled, harpists harped, and the flute-players trilled their lilting melodies.

 _When in the springtime of the year  
When the trees are crowned with leaves  
When the ash and oak and the birch and yew  
Are dressed in ribbons fair_

The dryads laughingly seemed to shimmer between their human forms and their tree forms, showing their leaves plainly. As they moved, the ribbons tied to their arms, their hair, and their clothes fluttered in the breeze of their dance.

 _When owls call the breathless moon  
In the blue veil of the night  
The shadows of the trees appear  
Amidst the lantern light_

A large, cream-colored barn owl, of the talking kind, flew off the shoulder of a dryad as they entered the room. Edmund's eyes somehow found his brother's, and he grinned, whispering some magic spell under his breath that instantly plunged the room to darkness. Then fauns and Talking Harts entered the room– the fauns holding large white lanterns, the deer had small sliver ones of dwarven-craft hanging from their antler points as they frolicked midst the dryads; the small flames cast shadows against the lithe forms of the tree-sprites.

 _We've been rambling all the night  
And sometime of this day  
Now returning back again  
We bring a garland gay _

Suddenly Lucy's soft soprano and Edmund's strong tenor joined the song, and they stood, holding out the garland earnestly as the spell waned and light returned to the room as if the night was fading and dawn rising. Peter and Susan were uncertain of taking the offered gift, not understanding what all this was. It could be poisoned, or a cruel trick to lull them into security whilst their troops stormed the castle.

 _Who will go down to those shady groves  
And summon the shadows there  
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms  
In the springtime of the year_

Lucy sang the verse, moving gracefully away and pulling a ribbon from a concealed pocket of her gown; gliding to a dryad, she wrapped the long ribbon around its wrist, securing it with a smile and a laugh, singing the rest of the words softly, absently, as if thinking over them.

 _The songs of birds seem to fill the wood  
That when the fiddler plays  
All their voices can be heard  
Long past their woodland days_

The fiddles were heard as the next verse was entered, and Talking Birds around the room chorused agreeingly, joining the song. Several dryads dropped to the ground as though perishing, though they sang on.

 _We've been rambling all the night  
And sometime of this day  
Now returning back again  
We bring a garland gay_

Fauns and more dryads come up to Peter and Susan, settling thin flower garlands around their shoulders, singing merrily.

 _And so they linked their hands and danced  
Round in circles and in rows  
And so the journey of the night descends  
When all the shades are gone_

The dryads moved to link arms with the fauns, and the deer danced and frolicked among them, neither one missing a beat. In circles and rows they danced indeed, with Edmund and Lucy watching happily. But they turned back to Peter and Susan as the song drew near its end. Once more they offered up the garland.

 _A garland gay we bring you here  
And at your door we stand  
It is a sprout well budded out  
The work of our Lord's hand_

 _We've been rambling all the night  
And sometime of this day  
Now returning back again  
We bring a garland gay_

 _We've been rambling all the night  
And sometime of this day  
Now returning back again  
We bring a garland gay_

"I give this to my lord, my brother, my King. I wish you know I should never think myself greater than thee. The forgiven and fallen cannot think to take the place of the one who never has and, I pray, never shall. Aslan keep thee, dearest brother, darling sister!" Edmund rose from his kneeling position, settling the garland around Peter's shoulders, and then embraced his brother and his sister. Lucy followed suit. Susan wept, pulling her little brother and sister close as they embraced her in turn.

"If you do not wish the throne, how did this ugly rumor start?" Peter asked, still uncertain.

"Though many love, others hate, my brother. I bring glad tidings with us; my valiant sister and I have slain a great warlord of the West; this only is the overthrow we talked of; this only is the war we plotted, none other. It kept us away, and in doing so, allowed liars and spies to profane our names and declare that we wished to end our blessed rule upon the Four Thrones." Edmund's hands still rested upon his brother's shoulders, and a smile graced his lips.

"Tis true, you surely must believe that we wish no ill will to come in like manner! You need must cast aside the fears and confusion and believe only our words; trust our words, for we speak naught but truth," Lucy implored sweetly, clasping her hands, grey eyes begging for them to believe.

Peter stared at them, and silence fell over the ballroom as all waited with baited breath for the High King to speak. "How…" Peter's voice broke; tears welled in his clear eyes. "How ever could I have doubted you? My brother, my family." He embraced Edmund tightly, tears falling down his cheeks. Lucy wrapped her arms around Peter, and Susan embraced them all.

"Spring eternal shall thaw the dark snows of winter! Long live Aslan and they that sit upon the Four Thrones!" those gathered 'round declared, cheering brightly as the dryads and fauns and deer resumed their frolicking dance.

The four siblings parted slightly, looked at one another and the tears in each other's eyes, and laughed joyfully. Never would they fall asunder, never would they fight.

"Once a king or queen of Narnia, evermore a king or queen," they whispered.

Never was there a happier Springtime Festival than the year it was believed that King Edmund did turn away from his brother.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... this turned out to be more along the lines of bookverse (that is what it's called?) than movieverse. I don't really know. I do know that it's more standalone than a part of my Narnian AU. I've had no internet for a couple days, and it goes out during the day, so I had some time to write this and go over it. I don't know when the internet will work reasonably again, but hopefully soon!**

 **The Song is not mine; it's called "The Mummer's Dance" by Loreena McKennitt. It's a really beautiful, Narnian-sounding song, and I recommend going and listening to it if you can; it adds to this one-shot quite a bit!**

 **Also, I'm so sorry to all my readers of the Star Cycle! I still don't have more than a couple hundred words written of chapter four, and even if it was completed, I can't get it to my Beta in enough time for her to do more than a quick once-over, which wouldn't be fair to her _at all_. **

**To everyone wondering what " _Edmund's residence of the Western Woods_ " is, I'll tell you: (though everyone who's read my LotR crossover with Narnia knows) it's a castle called "Valkilandor" near the mountains that run down from the West and the North.**

 **In my AU Narnia this mountain range is referred to as the "fingers of the Twilight Mountains." Mainly because it is a smaller range that comes off of this much bigger one that separates Narnia from the Western Wild.**

 **Well, any questions you may have, please leave them for me in the reviewing box below, thank you and Namárië until I post something again!**

 **WH**


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